Threadbare
by BigEvilShine
Summary: A small town seamstress is having issues with the local sorceress and her Dremora thrall. OC x Dremora.
1. Chapter 1

Somewhere in the warm belly of Cyrodiil sits an unassuming village.

Once it had been filled with the simple workers of the land; farmers and apothecaries working alongside cobblers and blacksmiths in relative harmony. The winters were mild and the summers occasionally baking and for the longest time the most intensely debated topic was whether the local patisserie's apple or almond tortes were best.

As is always the case with these lethargic little communities there came a curious stranger. A Dunmer from Morrowind. And a sorceress at that. Gossip poured from the local's lips as she settled into the sleepy town. She was wealthy, buying up one of the nicest manors just outside of the village. Richly dyed robes, dresses with flirtatiously low backs, and jewelry caked in crystals and gems set the Dunmer apart from the drab and practical locals.

Word at the patisserie hinted she might be a Telvanni. Others scandalized her as the well taken care of mistress to some lord that set her up in the village to keep her hidden from his suspicious wife. Whatever it was about the stranger that had capture everyone's attention soon faded into the background when other wealthy individuals began taking to the village as a sort of retreat from hectic city life. It seemed money attracted money, birds of a feather. Barracks for Legionnaires popped up seemingly over night as every abandoned manor in the area filled up with barons, duchesses, counts, and whoever had enough gold to secure themselves a spot in what had once been a dull little town.

But none of that was really any of Sansine Couturier's business.

Well, that's not entirely true. As the only professionally working tailor in town it was quite literally her business that got her acquainted with the new folk, including the odd Dunmer.

Sansine did her best to keep her mouth shut over the pins between her lips while doing fittings for the sorceress, leaving the empty shop air to be filled with the babbling Dunmer's words. Whether she liked it or not Sansine quickly learned more about the elf than she thought proper.

Liobah Telvra was over a century old but didn't look a day past forty, her favorite color was citrine, she had a slight allergy to dog dander and as such she'd erected a tall pointed iron fence around her property to keep them away, there was a hint of Redguard lineage on her father's side of the family, and she was inclined to play within the Arcane Arts to a degree that made Sansine uncomfortable to even listen to. Between taking measurements and seeing Liobah in the nude more times than she could count while trying to wiggle the sorceress into tighter and tighter corsets, they somehow ended up sort of friends.

"You know what I like about you, Sansi?" Liobah asked before immediately answering her own query, "you mind your own business, your eyes and hands are always busy with your work. All filled up with no room to look at me like I've stepped in something dirty and tracked it in all over your imported Khajiiti rugs." Sansine decided against pointing out that her store had only worn hardwood flooring, not a thread of fine rugs in sight.

Pulling the last pin from between her lips Sansine slid it into place in the shimmering cerise fabric, "I suppose I like you too. It's nice to have a little eccentric finery to work on. Gets dull fixing buttons and patching knees." Finishing up the appointment and scheduling ahead for pick up Liobah tipped Sansine clearly too much then left with a flourish, the dented bell on the door dinging off-key. Then it dinged again as Liobah reentered, leading someone in behind her.

"Almost forgot, I wanted to introduce you to my latest thrall," the sorceress spun, placing a lithe lavender gray hand on the shoulder of the man behind her. Grasping his forearm she pulled him further into Sansine's innocent little tailoring shop. The seamstress in question was bundling up the dress, her back to the couple as a crawling chill tickled her neck.

"Liobah, I said no more atronachs near the finery - " her jaw clacked shut as she turned, fingers digging into the countertop. Her ruddy Imperial cheeks, nearly always too warm and red, drained to a Secunda white. Liobah preened over her Dremora, brushing unseen fuzz from the daedra's black robes while he stood and glowered at the cramped and cluttered shop.

Sansine had never seen a Dremora outside of an illustrated text she'd flipped through as a child. She found him nightmarishly beautiful. Skin as dark as ink shone an indigo violet where the light struck, his high cheekbones and strong brow framing liquid black eyes the likes of which were punctured by a disc of color that burned as brightly as a hungry sun. From his brow curled two horns with a smaller set emerging further back, like charred wood in texture and color. Lovely pointed ears were decorated in golden rings and cuffs that glinted like stars in the dimness of the store's lobby. Sansine's eyes drew to the markings on his face, a symmetrical pattern of red violet that was as cruel as flames.

"A daedra in my shop!" Sansine choked, slapping a hand to her forehead, "there's a daedra in my shop. Oh I think I need to sit for while," she found a stool, plopping down and rubbing her eyes while Liobah chuckled.

"He's certainly lovely, isn't he? Listens to every order I say with the loyalty of the dead." Sansine decided she didn't want to understand that comparison. "His armor and weapons were certainly interesting to pull apart, lovely to get a glimpse of genuine daedric smithery and enchanting but it seems like I've neglected preparing appropriate clothing for him."

For the first time Sansine realized the hemlines of the robes were nearly a hand's breadth too short, exposing ankles and wrists. Then it clicked.

"You want me to whip something up for him?"

"If you'd be so kind. A few different pieces, something fitting for a noble Dremora and someone so closely associated with my lovely self," she made to leave but once more spun back around, "I'll leave him here for the time being, nobody seems to have taken a liking to him and it's bloody hard to get anything done with everyone quaking in their ratty boots at the sight of us. Make use of him while I'm gone, and you," she pointed to the daedra, her finger looking in danger of being bitten off, "listen to every word Sansine says. Don't cause any trouble." With that she bustled from the shop, Sansine's small objection dying in her throat as the doorbell dinged oddly behind the retreating elf. Then she was left alone. Staring at a Dremora.

"I suppose we should get those measurements then?"

/AN: so hey long time no see! this fic was never finished but after some mild prodding and my own want to let it see the light of day i decided to post what i have done. anyway, hopefully i'll get hyped up enough to finish it up but if not maybe some of you darlings will enjoy it as is. have a nice day!/


	2. Chapter 2

Sansine was entirely unsure how to approach this situation. She tugged on the measuring tape in her hands, staring pointedly at the ground where a still warm black robe lay pooled. If she looked up she could see the body of a Dremora she'd just met, only a simple and maybe too small cloth wrap covering his more intimate parts. Taking a deep breath through her nose, Sansine steadied herself and moved forward.

"I'm just going to take your measurements so I can make something that fits," she explained, still keeping to an impromptu rule of no eye contact. Her face was already burnt up enough as it was. Pushing a lock of bitter chocolate colored hair behind her ear she began her work. Sansine's knuckles and fingertips brushed his dark skin, making her flinch with each accidental contact. He was too warm, nearly hot to touch.

Moving around to him she glanced at the dimples on his lower back, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of her thoughts. The Dremora's silken black hair was kept in a top knot, the sides and back of his scalp shaven to show the red markings on his face curled back to his temples, only ending around where his ears lay. Biting her cheek Sansine quickly dropped to her knee and noted his inseam before popping up and barreling through the rest of the more intimate measures.

Stepping away Sansine told him to redress and finished marking down his numbers. He'd been loaned to her for the evening and being a practical woman she wasn't going to let another set of hands go to waste.

"Alright, let's see how good you are at fixing buttons."

Leading the Dremora to a nook hidden away behind mannequins in finery and chests filled with luxurious furs or glittering buttons she sat them both down on creaky old stools and set out teaching a daedra the domestic arts. He was a quick study; unspeaking and aloof to anything but the task he was set on. The scrap of practice cloth didn't have a single drop of blood from a stray needle prick when he finished his five buttons. Taking the cloth from him Sansine inspected his work, humming her approval.

"These are lovely, properly secured and everything," Sansine murmured, rubbing her thumb against a chipped jade button. "Suppose you're ready for the real work," she pulled a box of garments with lost or torn buttons out from under a nearby desk, cursing when a roll of fabric bounced off and rolled messily down the cluttered path.

"Okay, I've already picked out matching buttons and paired them up with which piece needs them. If you'll just stitch them up together I'd be grateful. If you've any questions do come get me, I'll be just around the corner working," she stood, wiping spare threads from her tunic before pausing, looking down at the daedra who was clutching a silver needle in his dark hand.

"I'm Sansine, by the way. It's nice to meet you," she floundered for a moment, "even if the circumstances are not particularly favorable for you I hope we can get on." Before she could embarrass herself further Sansine spun on her heel and disappeared to her own work, ignoring the faint warmth itching her ears.

The morning passed with ease into a drowsy midafternoon. A few locals came in to pick up or drop off this and that. A Khajiit merchant stopped in to sell off fabric and lace. Sansine reluctantly traded gold and a finely embroidered tunic with the grinning Khajiit. Finishing up on taking in a few dresses and breeches, Sansine decided she'd earned her lunch. Darting upstairs to her small room she rifled through the kitchen nook and made a platter of fruits, cheeses, and crusty bread. Tucking a jug of water and two tankards under her arm she sidled down the narrow stairs and took a seat next to the Dremora, offering an unsure smile as she set out the meal.

"Lunch. You can take a break for a while, I'm sure your eyes are crossing," she poured water for them both, trying not to smirk at the ferocity the daedra tossed his work away with. He pulled his stool closer, the legs squeaking over the old hardwood, before snatching a bunch of shiny red grapes and breaking a piece of bread away. Sansine bit into an apple, licking the juice that rolled down the crimson skin. Well, she hadn't actually thought he would join her. Did daedra even need to eat? Probably not but maybe the Dremora liked to chew or something. Sansine was peeling the skin from a grapefruit when the front bell dinged its off kilter tune.

"Well I see you two are getting along," Liobah chuckled, her arms loaded down with colorful bags padded with crinkly paper, hat and pastry boxes tied by shining ribbons. She set down her luggage and crossed the shop, grabbing Sansine's cup and gulping the water down.

"Yes Miss Telvra you may have some of my drink, I'm so happy you asked," Sansine smiled, whining at the slap on her shoulder Liobah delivered.

"No sass from you, girl. So how's my boy been treating you?"

"Fine. Actually wonderfully? He's been working hard all day. Not much of a talker though, hasn't even given me a name," Sansine admitted, noting that all her grapes had disappeared.

"Maybe I'll loan him out again in the future. Though Dremora generally don't include names for individuals in their culture, they refer to each other by rank or title. Fun little fact for you," Liobah twirled her finger, poking Sansine's nose before pilfering a strawberry from the platter. The tailor sat back, frowning and rubbing her nose.

"That's bizarre."

"It is. I'm going to be calling him by Romas while he's around, just to keep things simple. So feel free to use it as well, I imagine he'll be sick of me soon enough and want other companionship anyhow," Liobah said around a mouthful of bread, waving a hand of amethyst painted nails.

"Romas?" Sansine turned to him, eyebrows drawn together.

"That's right. Figured I'd pick something you Imperials would be comfortable using."

The daedra locked eyes with Sansine for a quick moment before returning his attention to the fruit. The corner of her mouth twitched at the exasperation on his face. Liobah pushed away from the counter, wiping her hands clean and jerking a thumb over her shoulder.

"Well come on then, we've got to be heading back and I'm not going to be carrying all that by myself," Liobah corralled her Dremora from the nook and set to stacking her bags and boxes up in his arms until he disappeared behind ribbons and colorful tufts of semi translucent paper.

"See you around, dear Sansi. When you finish my orders feel free to drop them off in person and we can have tea or coffee. Until then!" she dropped a peck on Sansine's cheek before sweeping herself and Romas out of the shop. Sansine snorted, tugging on a stray curl of hair.

"This neighborhood's really gone down hill."


	3. Chapter 3

"I have half a mind to hire a professional!" Ninny cried, her hefty jowls quivering. Sansine made a small humming sound. Ms. Libbit was one of the local and most maddening hens, always sticking her round face where it didn't belong and poking her stout sausage fingers in places they shouldn't go. With a figure reminiscent of a Sload she was one of the most challenging women to dress in the village. Especially when Ninny still thought she was in her long lost early twenties.

"It's not right, it's just not proper. First that dark elf moves in, and you know me Sansine I'm no bigot but that elf's got to be a Telvanni, and then if that's not enough she has a thrice cursed demon walking our streets! Oh, she thinks she's in control of it but you can never trust a daedra, Sansine, trust you me it's not something we can control," Ninny took a moment to catch her breath, shaking herself like a ruffled hen, "I bet my last septim that elf's a daedra worshipper too."

"Mmhmm, that's nice Ms. Libbit. Now how's the fit, still too tight around the arms?" Sansine asked, trying not to let on how drained she was from stuffing the old maid into her gown. Ninny's daughter Treva was leaving her mother's home in the next month, finally marrying the Legion soldier she'd been courting for years. After the wedding Ninny's girl would be leaving the village to live with her husband in the capital. Everyone in the village was holding their breath, waiting to see how the volatile old woman would react to being left alone. Even Sansine was treading more lightly around her.

Romas had taken the village by storm. The few times he'd been spotted in public had nearly invoked a riot, only Liobah's fetching diplomacy and the Legionnaires' own reluctance to go near him had stopped the daedra from having to eviscerate half the bloody town. Sansine had only seen him once in the season since he'd helped her at the shop.

She'd been snacking on a light lunch in the display windows while debating on what to dress the mannequins in when something had made her turn around. Romas stood not an arm's length from her, only separate by a pane of old glass. His tall lean frame was draped in one of Sansine's commissioned tunics and breeches; the hems knitted with gold thread. They'd stared at each other with equally unreadable expressions before his strange eyes wandered to the plate of fruit balanced on the stool at her knee. To the grapes.

Sansine turned her back to him and got back to the mannequins.

" – at least some of my taxes are finally paying off," Ms. Libbit snapped, jarring Sansine back to the present.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"Really, did your mother never teach you to listen?" Ms. Libbit smacked her lips, popping out her hip, "I was talking about the dark elf's new helper has got the town a few more soldiers stationed here. 'Cause of all the complaints that have been written."

"Well," Sansine began helping Ninny from her gown, "I'm sure that security will help plenty of people sleep easier. Now I've also got Treva's gown just about done, if you'd like I can drop it off later this evening when I've got everything taken care of." She'd been putting off stitching in the last few pearls after she'd gone cross eyed the last time she'd picked up the neckline. Ninny agreed and clucked on a bit more about how the local government was crumbling under amorality and the like before Sansine managed to just about shove her from the shop. Shaking her head, Sansine moved to her workstation and pulled out Treva and Liobah's latest orders. She took a quick burning swig from a hidden bottle of brandy behind a jar of pins.

"I hate this job," she lied.

Sansine wore her skill and fondness for her profession as battle wounds. Silver threads of scars knitted over her fingers and hands from all the times she'd clumsily pricked herself on needles. She had to squint to read after years of abusing her vision while finagling fine needlework, her back ached from standing next to dress forms and hunching over sewing tables, and her wrists never seemed to not be in pain. For all of that she had earned a skill not quite unmatched but certainly formidable. Using this moderately impressive talent she rushed through the orders and had them bundled up by closing hours. Locking the door behind her she was on the streets at sunset.

Ninny's home was the first stop. The Libbit household sat on one of the busier streets, gaslight lamps lighting the short cobblestone pathways and gates surrounding the meager estate. Sansine nodded to a passing couple, tugging open the creaky front gate and making her up the short path to the door. Ninny made a show of being overly critical at her daughter's dress, making sure to act like she were counting every bead and pearl before reluctantly handing over the rest of the pay and what was only the bare minimum of an adequate tip. Forcing the irritation brewing in her gut down, Sansine accepted the payment and managed to leave the manor in only an hour's time.

With the sunlight gone the skies were shifting to true night. Candy blacks and violets played on the horizon as the moons and stars began to peek through. Quickening her step Sansine's worn boots scuffed quietly against the cobbles as she made her way to Liobah's.

The Dunmer's home was an expansive estate on the far lip of town. Bordered by a seven-foot tall iron fence all around that secured the lush grass fields and manicured gardens within. Fountains of marble nymphs and dragons spotted the hedge maze behind the mansion. Sansine had only seen the maze from within the home while dealing with Liobah, but she was barely able to tear her eyes from the intricate tapestries and polished wood and velvet furniture within. Stifling a yawn Sansine approached the gate to the long winding cobbled path that trailed to the front door. Grasping the bars she pushed, awkwardly lurching against the gate when it didn't budge.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," she growled, pushing hair back and giving the gate another go. She shook it, the bars chattering at the force, when two torchbugs fluttered on the other side of the bars. Two exceptionally small ones. Sansine stopped, blinking at them.

"Romas!" she screeched, jerking back. The Dremora stepped closer, staring down at her as she held a hand over her thundering heart. He was barely visible in the dark, lean and tall and satin black. He tilted his head to the side, utterly unreadable. Straightening out her tunic and bag Sansine coughed lightly into her shoulder.

"Sorry, um, I didn't realize you were…do you remember me?" she tried to keep eye contact but found his unblinking gaze overwhelming.

The daedra crossed his arms, leaning his weight on one leg. "Sansi. Dressmaker. Made me sew buttons."

Sansine let out a strangled laugh, clapping a hand over her mouth as she flushed, "well, yes, sorry about that. It's women's work but everyone benefits." She didn't bother correcting her shortened name, figuring he'd picked it up listening to Liobah.

"So, are you out for a walk or something?" she asked.

"Gatekeeper."

Sansine floundered. Conversation had never been her strong suit and Romas wasn't giving her any help. While she waged an internal war trying to prevent any perceived awkwardness the Dremora lost interest. He stretched his neck, cracking his jaw in a wide yawn. Jagged fangs curled past his lips, crooked and cracked and wickedly sharp. Sansine's hands began to shake.

"Scared, mortal?" he sneered, a hint of a smirk showing. She crossed her arms, sticking her hands in her armpits in an attempt to hide their trembling.

"No. I just haven't eaten lately; my hands shake when I haven't had any sugar. Been working my fingers to the bone all day," she patted her bag containing the dress, "now am I allowed to see my client or what?" she asked sharply. Regret and fear swirled in her gut but she retained eye contact, challenging the Dremora. He didn't say anything immediately, choosing instead to rake his eyes over her. Studiously, painfully picking over ever drop of her body. Sansine could only hope her legs weren't quivering too visibly.

They were.

Romas slid his dark hand around the locked gate, undoing the latch and swinging the iron bars inward. He held the gate open but didn't move, forcing Sansine to squeeze herself past him. She muttered an apology when her bag knocked his hip, just about starting at a jog towards the mansion. Hearing the tread of stone and grass behind her she realized Romas was following. Surreptitiously she looked over her shoulder, catching a leering grin under his sunlit stare. She nearly snapped her neck looking forward, gooseflesh rising on her arms.

Ringing the bell at the front door they only had to wait a moment before a shadow passed across the stained glass ornamenting the door. It flew open, revealing Liobah in a rather sheer silver white bed gown. Her dark toes were tucked into matching slippers while a transparent shawl rest around her bare shoulders.

"Hello hello hello my darling! Come in, quickly now," she gripped Sansine's hand and pulled her inside, tipping the Imperial off balance and sending her tumbling into her client's arms. Liobah chuckled, cherry red eyes sparkling at the tailor. Romas followed the women in, securing the door behind him.

"Now isn't that a pretty color on you," Liobah patted Sansine's flushed cheek as the two stepped apart, "alas, I've already my eyes on another."

"Gods, stop it you're so embarrassing," Sansine muttered, already dipping into her bag. Pulling the berry crimson gown free she carefully unfolded the garment, presenting it as if it were capable of crumpling into dust at the lightest touch. Liobah was quick to stroke and pet the gown, nearly glowing in her excitement. The elf just about ripped apart her clothes to get into the dress with Sansine's help, the two trailing into a nearby parlor to allow Liobah to observe herself in a trifold mirror.

"You've done it again, fits like a second skin. I almost feel more exposed with it on than I would if I were nude," she admitted, relishing the scandal such a form fitting, low backed dress would provoke. Sansine politely thanked her, scrubbing an eye as Liobah prattled on.

"Glad you're pleased. Is there anything else you'll be needing for tonight? I'm a bit tired, unfortunately."

"Yes, actually. My father will be visiting in a fortnight and I'll be hosting a party open to the entire village. I'll need something to fit you, and it should be in a pretty color. Eye catching like a gem. And it must be a dress, I can't stand that I've never seen you outside of old tunics and breeches," Liobah's nose wrinkled as she began undressing. Sansine helped her free, her brow puckered.

"Are you commissioning a dress for _me_?"

"I am. And issuing you an invitation to my party. And if you think you can talk your way out of this with your humble denials I'll lock you up in the cellar until you agree to everything. My dear father's not too fond of my move out here but if he meets someone pleasant like you I'm sure it'll help my case. You'll help me, right?" she asked, sliding her nightdress over her head.

Sansine felt ill but knew there'd be no arguing.

Moving to the door the girls bid each other a nice evening, Sansine endured another odd kiss on the cheek and she was nearly out the door before Liobah cut her off once more.

"Romas, be a gentleman and escort our dear. Can't send a lady home alone this late, can I?" Liobah asked, waving away Sansine's protests and shooing the daedra and Imperial out the door. Sansine stood on the stoop as the door slammed shut behind them, suddenly doused in inky night and solid silence.

The presence at her side was a weight. Romas was utterly silent, unnaturally so. Sansine sucked in a breath, conjuring up the last scrap of energy she had for what was turning into a miserably long day.

"We should be off then," she mumbled, tightening her satchel's strap and leading the way down the path back to town. Romas made no attempt to stop or speak with her, the only reminder he followed were the second pair of steps scuffing quietly with hers. Masser was slim tonight, the pale shine of Secunda barely lighting the path through the woods back to town. Wind rustled through the branches, far away yips of forest life crackling through the quiet of the night. Sansine shivered, crossing her arms.

"Scared, mortal?"

She resisted looking back at Romas, knowing he might just scare her to look upon. "No. Just cold."

"You have no reason to fear the wolves," he'd seen through her lie like a dragonfly's wing, "there's nothing in these woods that could compare to me."

"Well that's not very comforting," Sansine murmured. From the corner of her eye she caught the shine of his fangs.

"Never said I was comforting you."

Sansine took quicker strides.

Getting into town she led them down the wealthier streets on her way home. Here the street lamps were always fueled and the Legion soldiers patrolled regularly. With the last few years worth of growth in the village there were more pickpockets and thieves around than ever. Sansine rubbed her thumb against a pink scar on her forearm. She tried not to stay out past dark anymore but there were still times she hadn't been lucky.

"Is Liobah treating you well?" Sansine asked, slowing to match Romas's lazy gait. She didn't care for the answer as much as she needed a distraction.

"The Dunmer has me acting as her slave. Cleaning, guarding, escorting you; it's beneath me."

Sansine thought that didn't sound so bad but she wasn't some immortal being from another plane of existence. What she knew about Dremora was limited, but she'd read and heard a few things. They were brutish yet noble warriors from Oblivion that served the Princes and ruled each other through castes and oaths. It all sounded so militant and complicated for her but at some level Sansine respected Romas for it.

Turning a corner brought them to a dark street. Opposite them a patrol of two Legionnaires marching loudly as their armor clanked and their scabbards knocked around. One carried a torch, the firelight encircling them in a warm haven of visibility and shone against their leather and steel armor. Sansine stopped dead in her tracks, Romas knocking into her shoulder as he stopped short.

"What?" he grunted, dark brow furrowed. The red markings nearly glowed pink in the darkness. Sansine took a step towards a side alley, her gaze remaining locked on the soldiers.

"I've just remembered a short cut, we'll make better time passing through here," she smiled, "come on, let's go."

"No," Romas gripped a handful of her sleeve, yanking her to a stop, "I can smell it, Sansi." He leaned in closer to her, his gold earrings sparkling in the approaching torchlight, "what has you so scared?"

"Oh no, we are not going down that line of questioning," she shook her head, reaching up and trying to unpluck his fingers from her tunic. He only held her tighter, glowing eyes insistent and greedy. Grinding her jaw Sansine's eyes flicked between the soldiers, the suddenly hungry smile of the Dremora, and she made her decision.

"Him," she pointed to the Imperial in full Legion regalia who was engaged in a friendly laugh with his fellow officer. Grasping Romas's hand Sansine looked up at him with eyes caught between panic and irritation, "let's go. _Please_."

Romas didn't resist when Sansine tugged him after her into the alley. He barely managed to grip her belt before she ran headlong into chained gate. Sucking in a breath she stared at the looming iron bars, her jittery fingers clasping onto the chains as she squinted at the etched wooden plaque.

"Property of the Libbits No Trespassing? This alleyway's been a public fairway since as long as I can bloody remember – " Sansine yipped in surprise when Romas slid a palm over her mouth. She dug her nails into the skin on the back of his hand, kicking back against his shins as he hauled her back.

"Who's there?"

Sansine froze, pushing herself flush against Romas. They both fell into awkward crouches, Romas's hand on her mouth while she held him back against the narrow alley wall with her body. Neither moved saved for the girl's subtle shivering yet Sansine had never heard anything louder than her own heartbeat in that moment. Torchlight spilled over the cobblestones as the soldiers paused outside the alley, squinting down the shadowy space.

Sansine's hand found Romas's knee, sliding back to grip his thigh as sweat formed on the nape of her neck. Behind her he'd all but ceased breathing, his eyelids hooded so as not to attract the Legionnairres' attention with his luminescent gaze. Yet he studied the soldier Sansine had fear of, growing unimpressed with her choice of monster.

The soldier was nothing to the daedra. An average Imperial male with olive complexion complemented by dark curly hair. His build was strong perhaps, broad shouldered and complemented by the bulky Legion armor. Yet there was nothing overtly menacing about him. Somewhere in Romas he found himself miffed that Sansine should quake at the sight of this man but not at him, an obviously more frightening male.

That wasn't entirely right, she had quaked at the sight of Romas.

Just not enough to satisfy his male pride.

"I don't see anything. Probably a stray cat or something," the orc soldier grunted, scratching his broad jaw. The Imperial hesitated, taking a step closer into the alley. Romas felt his breathing become restricted with how hard Sansine was pinning him. The orc groaned, slouching.

"Come on Brucan, watch is almost over. Don't drag it out."

So that was his name. Romas found it quite ugly.

Brucan scanned the shadows once more, staring hard but seeing nothing. With a sigh he stepped back and cuffed his partner on the arm, "you're right, probably exhaustion playing tricks on me. Let's turn in for the night." They left, only the bobbing torchlight a reminder that they had ever been. That and the feel of Sansine sagging back against Romas's front. She exhaled through her nose, the breath of relief tickling the back of the daedra's hand. He snatched it back, shoving her away. Sansine spluttered, toppling over onto her hands and knees.

"Rude!" she hissed, clambering to her feet and righting her clothes. Romas stood, folding his arms. Apologies were beneath him. Wiping the back of her neck Sansine led the way to her shop, her shoulders tense and steps quick. Ducking inside Romas followed her in, watching as she pulled curtains down over the front windows and fell into a stool by her workbench.

"Why do you fear him?"

Sansine let out a moan, dropping her forehead to the desk. Romas didn't move from his place at the door, frowning at an opulent set of men's garments adorning a mannequin.

"Do you really need to know?"

Romas didn't answer.

Sansine rolled her head so that her cheek pressed into the scarred wood, locking eyes with the Dremora. She really didn't have to say anything to him. As Liobah's thrall he wasn't owed anything by anyone. It was Romas who was compelled to indulge in confessions if he was asked. But Sansine wasn't quite thinking in those terms. She was looking at a Dremora that had just helped her stay hidden from a man she was in no hurry to see again.

"His name's Brucan Thitellius. He's from around here. We grew up together. There weren't many other kids our age in the village so we gravitated towards each other," she picked at a deep gouge in the desk's woodwork, dropping her eyes to it. "I put precedence on taking care of this business over anything else. Brucan was from a wealthier family and didn't have any other obligations so I guess his focus turned to other things. He started to obsess over me, trying to pull me away from learning my trade and into his lifestyle. I wouldn't have any of that, as you can tell here," she waved flippantly at the cluttered store, "but he just grew, I don't know, unstable."

"Explain," Romas prompted.

"He would visit me at every chance, sometimes waiting for hours for me to finish my work so he could spend time with me. I don't know if it was an infatuation or something else but it started getting uncomfortable. Eventually he couldn't control it and he, um, he… " She pressed her lips together, brow puckering. "Attacked me? Yes, so word got around what happened and his parents had him join the Legion. They told Brucan he'd be cut from their inheritance if he didn't. It figures he'd manage to get himself stationed out here," she growled, clapping a hand over her face.

"Sounds as if you were just waiting for him," Romas stretched his long arms, scratching the fuzz on his scalp, "did you just expect he wouldn't come back?"

"I just – " she pursed her lips, rolling her eyes, "everyone always leapt to his defense after. Saying things like boys are all odd at that age and he would calm down after a few years in service. Guess I just started believing them at some point. Then there's the issue of picking up and leaving. This is my shop," she slapped a hand down on the ugly desk, "how in Oblivion am I supposed to leave this place?"

"Interesting turn of phrase."

Sansine sat up, color fleeing her, "oh, Romas, I didn't mean it like that. Sorry."

He sighed, staring blankly at the far wall. Sansine cleared her throat, rubbing her neck.

"So, do you miss Oblivion?"

"I prefer it. Oblivion is my home and there I choose whom to serve unlike here where I am no better than a trophy to some magician," Romas grimaced, nose wrinkling. Sansine nodded, eyes gone wide and eager as she sat up straighter.

"I've heard there are different parts of Oblivion, is that true? And who did you serve?" she asked quickly, nearly sparkling with curiosity. Romas crooked a slight smile.

"Lord Mehrunes Dagon is mine to serve. My home is his pocket of Oblivion, known to you shortsighted mortals as the Deadlands. How anyone could call the boiling fury there dead is beyond foolishness. It's places like this village that don't know what it is to live, where idiots like you grow complacent with your lot in life," he began braiding a thin segment of hair, lazily watching Sansine digest what she'd just heard.

"That was just a long winded way of calling me stupid, wasn't it?" she accused. Romas shrugged. Sansine entertained making a rude gesture with her hand but thought better of it, feeling a fluttery wave of exhaustion hit her.

"We can continue trying to hold a conversation tomorrow or some other time. I need to head to bed for the night," she pushed up from her seat, going to hold the door for Romas, "thank you for escorting me, you can tell Liobah I made it home safe if you'd like." Sansine smiled wearily at the Dremora. He remained seated, lightly pulling on a gold earring before pushing off onto his long legs and moving towards her.

"I can come back tomorrow."

Sansine nodded, deciding that must have been his way of asking permission, "yes, tomorrow or whenever you need to get away from Liobah. Just, just as long as you don't make trouble."

Romas stared at her, lingering in the doorway a moment longer before disappearing through the door. Yawning into shoulder Sansine watched him walk down the street, tilting her head before locking the store up for the night.


	4. Chapter 4

The days passed by in a hazy crawl. Customers dropped by and orders were filled, all while a certain daedra lingered in the shop. He was as helpful as he was lazy, just as likely to be found patching torn clothes as he was eating all the grapes. Brucan would pass by the storefront, his dark eyes glued to the windows, but he never entered. It left Sansine rubbing gooseflesh from her arms and wondering what was stopping him.

"No, come on! Stand up straight," she poked Romas's gut, grinning at the scowl he returned. In the down time between orders Sansine had taken to dressing the daedra, or rather trying to. Today she was smoothing him into a sable doublet, her quick fingers securing the many buttons adorning the front.

"I don't appreciate playing dress up," he growled, reaching over her to snatch a handful of grapes.

Sansine clucked her tongue, "just let me have my fun. All the men in these parts that ask for clothes built from scratch are all miserably shaped, like giant porkish apples asking me to make them look like young Legionnaires again. You've got such a great figure, tall and strong, broad shoulders," she ran her hands up his arms, "and this waistline and slim hips," she slid her hands down his sides, shaking her head in awe. "You have a fantastic body, I just want to adorn you with finery. Make you up like all those fat nobles wish they could be," Sansine confessed. Circling her thumbs against his hipbones she suddenly stiffened, stilling as realization of what she was doing hit.

"Mortal," Romas warned. Her hands jerked back, heat flooding her face and neck as she mumbled a quick apology. Darting behind him Sansine silently cringed and cursed, finishing the fitting with professional efficiency. Handing him his regular clothing she sent Romas behind a folding blind to change and Sansine began straightening up the front desk. Her ears perked at the awkward jingle of the front door.

"Hello, welcome to – " her mouth slammed shut as Brucan pulled off his leather helmet, smiling and sliding a hand through his dark curly locks. Behind the desk Sansine felt her knees begin to shake.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to take you by surprise. I've just been wanting to drop in and say hi for a while," he admitted, his face seeping with apology. Sansine couldn't open her mouth, her throat strangled shut by her own nerves. Brucan either didn't notice or make mention as he began to explore the shop. He slid his calloused fingers over the bodices of display dresses, humming his approval at the silken fabrics. Brucan set his helm on a low table, resting a hand on the pommel of his sword in what may have been a relaxed stance. Sansine couldn't tell, every muscle in her body burning for her to get away.

"I can see you've kept the shop open. A bit cramped though, isn't it?" he asked.

Sansine swallowed past a dry throat, "I had to move everything to this floor," she said, attempting to ignore her shaking voice.

"Ah, yes, my mother told me about the fire," Brucan moved towards Sansine, catching her hand before she could react, "I'm so sorry. I wasn't here, I should have helped you through that." His coarse thumb stroked the back of her hand, his strong grip caging her.

Sansine forced a light laugh when her attempts to tug her hand free failed. "I can take care of myself, Brucan."

"You shouldn't have to. It's a man's duty to care for his own," his voice grave. Sansine began to hear a ringing in her ears.

"Sansine have you eaten today? You're hand's shaking."

"I'm not married, I don't need someone to look after me. The notion's insulting," she forced out the words, hair on the back of her neck rising at the sudden light in his eyes.

"No? But I could've sworn…" he trailed off, fingers digging into her wrist as his eyes flickered around the room, searching his thoughts. Then he looked up at her, a smile crawling over tanned lips. "So you're still available?"

"No!" Sansine ripped her hand free, stumbling back until her hip hit a sewing table, "Brucan I've told you I have no interest in wedding anyone or enduring any form of romantic relationships," her chin quivered as her eyes began to sting, "okay?"

Brucan laughed, the kindness in his face bleeding into confidence, "Sansi I'll have you yet. The day a woman is happy alone is the day the Thalmor accept the ninth. I'll visit again, tomorrow! Perhaps we can lunch together? Ah, let's not make plans. I like to see what happens when we're together," he turned, collecting his helm and tossing it on. Swinging open the door he paused, half turning back, "until tomorrow then, love." With that he was gone, the rusted doorbell clanking while Sansine slid down to the ground, scrubbing the heels of her hands over her eyes.

"He's sure of himself," Romas murmured, his reappearance startling Sansine. She nodded, not trusting her voice over the thickness in her throat. Swiping the last lick of moisture from her eyes she loosed a shaky sigh, laying back and splaying out her arms. Romas came to stand over her, peering down.

"You've a suitor. He doesn't seem the type to take no for an answer, either."

Sansine snorted, smiling grimly.

"Perhaps it would have been wise to say you were claimed."

She cleared her wet throat, "he would have demanded to meet his competitor. Likely have killed him if there had truly been someone."

"As he did your father?"

Sansine just groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, "and how have you figured that bit out?"

Romas didn't seem particularly inclined to answer. She didn't break, though, and bolstered her patience against his. Eventually the Dremora rolled his eyes, deciding he didn't have enough energy for this.

"What are you going to do?" he switched subjects, toeing her side. Sansine grumbled, smacking away his boot.

"I don't know. Keep Brucan at arm's length. Although that didn't seem to work too well before… You have any ideas?" she asked, hooking a finger under the tongue of Romas's boot. He swung his heel lazily enough that her grip didn't dislodge.

"Kill him."

"Okay, barring that what would you do if you were me?"

"Have me kill him."

Sansine glared up at him, maliciously untying his bootlaces. Romas hissed, kicking away her hand and moving away to retie his boot. Rolling onto her side she propped her chin up in her hand, watching Romas's long fingers tie the knot.

"Would you really do it, if I asked you? Kill him, I mean," she asked, worrying her bottom lip.

Romas barely glanced up, "I must do what Liobah commands and the witch has decreed I obey your wishes."

Sansine flapped her hand, "no, no, no, I'm not going to command anything like that from you, Romas. You'd probably find some way to turn it back and slit my throat with my own words, anyhow," she shivered. "Would you kill someone for me of your own free will?"

He sighed, straightening up to look down his nose at the Imperial lying on the floor, "for you?"

"That's what I asked."

"I would kill as many mortals as I could just for my own gluttony. Your honor means nothing to me," he said. Sansine wasn't really expecting anything different and yet she still felt a bit deflated. Getting to her feet Sansine brushed her hair back, the unruly curls sticking to the drying sweat on her neck and temples. Patting her tunic clean of stray threads she began tidying up the front desk, collecting herself.

"I suppose that's not surprising. You can go now, Liobah's expecting you back to help preparations for her father's return," she flapped a cloth at him. Romas tucked a sealed package under his arm that contained he and Liobah's clothing for the Dunmer's upcoming garden party before departing. Sansine had been putting off finishing her dress, a simple gown of dusty turquoise that matched her bluish eyes. Compared to what she usually wore it was damn near opulent. She was loath to actually putting it on.

Yet it was a fate she must face. Donning the shiny gem colored dress Sansine pinned up her dark hair in the mirror. Ornaments of gold colored metal sparkled with colored glass in the mess of curls she'd half braided into a bun high on the back of her head. Her face was dusted with makeup; her lips stained a hint of red with her eyes thinly lined in black. Dropping her hands from the foreign mess of skirts she tried to fight down the urge to rip away all her finery and go nap.

"I look like a faker."

Sucking in a miserably thin breath thanks to the tight bodice, she knocked the toes of her least scuffed brown boots against the ground to fix the fit and made her way from the shop, locking the door behind her. The evening was drawing to an end, the sky blooming with rosy pink and purple clouds while mothers and fathers gathered their children up for supper. The trip to Liobah's mansion ended too quickly. Sansine attempted not to drop her gaze from the passing carriages and carts of the Dunmer's other more affluent guests. Only once did Sansine wince at another couple's pointedly arched brows and half lidded eyes. Fanning away the sweat building at her brow, Sansine entered the open doors of the mansion and followed the crowd out to the gardens.

There are very few ways to intermingle at a party where one doesn't know anyone. The more gregarious of us can find anything to pluck up a conversation with a stranger with, whether that be the designer of a fabulous hat or asking a portly businessman how he'd earned his wealth. Then there are those that eat and drink away their nerves, snatching sweets and snacks from passing server's trays and otherwise occupying themselves by filling their mouths with something other than conversation. Then there are the very dregs of social entities, the ones that stand back attempting to be unseen and desperately searching for a familiar face. Sansine fell into this last category, holding a fresh glass of wine in her hand while scanning the crowd of bright and laughing people.

There were colored lanterns strung up across the back balcony, vines of rose and honeysuckle curling up over the marble banisters that overlooked the lower hedge maze that spanned nearly the whole of the back property. There were great statues and fountains to be found in the lovingly trimmed greenery, supposedly even a few clandestine statues of daedric princes if the gossip was to be believed.

Liobah's guests were eclectic. Men, mer, Khajiit, and Argonians paced the grounds. Not a hair out of place or a smudge of makeup on any faces, every Khajiit's fur was silken and shining with luster while the Argonians wore their scales like shining coins. Altmer towered over all, their dark and golden almond eyes shining in the waning light of the sunset. Even a few orcs stood to the side talking amongst themselves, their burly bodies tucked into richly adorned clothes. A maroon jacket moved to block Sansine's view. Looking up she found Romas's placid face peering back.

"Gods, I'm glad to see you," she confessed, letting her shoulders relax. Romas didn't say a word, instead he continued to look at her, going so far as to squint. Sansine began to fidget with her glass, leaning back a touch.

"Is there something on my face?"

"Yes," Romas deadpanned. He reached out, brushing his coarse thumb against her upper lip. Sansine snapped at him in a halfhearted bite, earning a warning growl while he smeared the lipstick between his thumb and forefinger.

"It's makeup, ladies are supposed to wear it," she explained, clipping off her words before she could insult his ignorance.

"I'm aware. You look terrible with it. Bizarre in that," he elaborated, nodding to her dress. Sansine shrugged, nodding.

"Can't disagree with you there. You look nice though," she switched subjects, taking her turn to brush a hand against his suit jacket. It was a proper fit, emphasizing his sinfully perfect waist to shoulder line and complementing the wine colored markings on his face. His buttons and cufflinks were simple gold like his earrings. Sansine wasn't disappointed to see his hair had been pulled pack in the usual topknot with the addition of two finger thick braids pulling back from his temples.

"The bitch wants to see you," Romas muttered, pulling her hand from where she'd been examining the stitching of his hemline. Sansine obliged, following as the Dremora turned and parted the crowd with his dangerous presence. It was almost an empowering feeling to be at the side of someone whose presence commanded such attention. Sansine kept close, holding her chin up and straightening her back as they walked through the gossiping folk. If she were honest the touch of fear in their eyes was interesting. She'd no idea how powerful she could feel at Romas's side.

"Here we go, here we go, this is that seamstress I was talking about," Liobah snatched Sansine's wrist, tugging the Imperial over to a grim Dunmer. He was a head taller than Liobah with the same bluish coloring. Dark garnet eyes set under a hard brow looked over Sansine with disinterest while she tried not to break out in an anxious sweat. Instead of the local fashion this mer wore thick robes, the layers of richly dyed fabrics seeping wealth and foreign magic. Sansine nearly started when she saw the silver piercings in his lip and nose.

"She's usually not so rude but I probably stared like that the first time I met you," Liobah joked, surreptitiously pinching Sansine's arm and waking her from the momentary stupor.

"My apologies, I've no idea how to behave at these kinds of affairs. It's nice to meet you, I'm Sansine," she said, then cringed, "as your daughter already said." She could nearly feel Liobah rolling her eyes.

"Felthir. You are just as quaint as my daughter described," he frowned, dark eyes sliding to Liobah, "surprisingly."

"She's a simpleton but that's her greatest charm. Not all of us can be great scholarly successes. Even so she's been a good friend to me over the past few years." The Dunmer fell into a string of Dunmeris soon after, the foreign tongue beyond Sansine's grasp. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, each time unsure whether she'd been dismissed or not. Felthir didn't seem interested in continuing any conversation with the tailor but at the same time Sansine felt him just the type to be offended if she wandered away without his blessing. The formalities were a pain that left her with a budding headache. Fidgeting with the glass in hand she waited, watching the sun bruised sky fall purple.

"I was hoping you'd be here," Brucan slid an arm around her waist, pulling her in for a quick kiss on the cheek. Liobah and Felthir fell silent, their apparent argument slipping away while Sansine tried not to lean too obviously away from the Imperial as her skin paled.

"You two know each other? Well that's one less introduction to make. Brucan Thitellius here's part of the Legion, placed here to protect this cute little town. And this is my father Felthir." The exchange was notably less painful than Sansine's as man and mer exchanged quick masculine greetings and Liobah dipper her finger into her wine, humming a tune as she swirled the rosy liquid.

"So you're close with Sansi?" the elf asked, ruby eyes wide with curiosity and cunning. Brucan returned his arm to the Imperial girl's shoulders even as she hunched reluctantly.

"Certainly. Since we were kids the two of us drove the locals mad. We haven't seen each other much since I've been away with the Legion," he turned eyes crinkled with fondness to Sansine, "I've certainly missed her at my side."

"Oh? So you're courting?" Liobah smirked.

"No!" Sansine cleared her throat, embarrassed by her outburst as all eyes turned to her, "apologies. No, I'm not interested in that form of relationship with him."

"So I'm not good enough but others are?" Brucan asked through his teeth. His rough fingers dug into her slight shoulder, callouses scraping her skin. She did her best to hide her wince but Felthir's trim eyebrow rose regardless.

"That's not what I meant. We've talked about this," she said quietly, her knees beginning to quake as she was pulled further flush against him. He said not a word but his jovial countenance did fade. With the loss of his easygoing eyes and boyish smile came an embittered look of calculation, dark gaze attempting to discern something from Sansine's pale face. She couldn't look away from him even as his hold began to bruise her, she could only look up into his hovering face while her hands gripped the swell of her wineglass. Liobah cleared her throat, sharply clapping her hands.

"Alright, it's nightfall, time for festivities!" she called, snaking her arm into Sansine's and drawing her from Brucan. The sorceress quickly led the way to a lifted portion of the balcony. The other guests quieted as she called for attention, soon silence befall the dimly lit back garden.

"Hello, hello, thank you all for coming this evening to my humble abode," Liobah swung out her free arm to the opulent mansion and its grounds, earning a chuckle from the less affluent locals. "I know many of you are curious about me and my home and what better way to feed that hunger than through a game?"

Interested murmurs bubbled up from the crowd as finely dressed men and women spoke in excited whispers. Liobah could barley contain her grin, raising her hand for silence.

"You'll have made note of my lovely maze if you've a proper set of eyes, and that will be our arena for tonight. The fairer sex will have a head start to hide in the hedge and then men will follow soon thereafter. If a woman should be found their discoverer will have earned a kiss. Game starts now!" she shouted. Shrill giggles erupted as women hitched up their skirts and fled into the intricate gardens, disappearing into the green as the men chuckled at their enthusiasm. Sansine snorted as a woman tugged her skirt from where it had stuck in the hedge.

"And what do you have to be so smug about? You've lost your head start," Liobah frowned, raising a critical brow. Sansine spared a moment to reflect father and daughter had perfected that look.

"What? I'm not playing."

"Yes you are."

Sansine cringed, "no…"

"Yes, now go."

"I refuse."

"Too bad. We're all playing and," she leaned forward until her lips brushed against Sansine's ear, "don't look now but that Imperial Legionnaire is ready to hunt. Still want to waste your head start?"

Sansine glared at her friend, gathering up handfuls of her dusty turquoise skirt and running for the maze as chuckles chased her in. The hedges were nearly twice the height of the tallest man, the dense walls seemingly absorbing the light and sound of the party. Soft dark earth met her quick steps, coarse leaves catching her elbows as she hoisted up her annoying skirt. Sansine's eyesight was poor; the burden of someone whose business had her hunched two inches away from intricate fabrics, and the darkened and moist misty paths lent her no aid as she struggled through. She'd barely made four turns when the men roared, whooping and calling out as they charged the maze. Sansine swallowed over a dry throat.

She had reason to be nervous. Brucan wasn't only a seasoned Legionnaire but also an accomplished hunter. The Thitellius family was well known for their long hunting trips where game was brought down not for need but for sport. Brucan had enjoyed years of learning how to track and stalk his prey thanks to this and Sansine was sure the loamy soil underfoot would not help her disappear. "Bastard certainly knows my shoe size," she muttered, backing out from a dead end and twisting to a new avenue.

Every now and then she'd run into a slowly wandering woman and they'd give each other a fright. At every sound of someone passing on the far side of the hedge Sansine would take care to quiet her steps and silence her breathing. Her neck strained from constant glances over her shoulder. The batter of her heart was so loud that by the time she realized she could hear nothing, no giggling women or chuckling men sharing a carefree game; she'd gone too far into the labyrinth.

Here the soil was clear of footprints and the air heavy with the night's chill. Pushing on Sansine rubbed at the gooseflesh on her arms, cursing her off the shoulder sleeves. When next she turned a corner Sansine stopped in her tracks, captured by the site beyond.

A glade opened up before her, a courtyard of cut stone and a single fountain dominating the center. Flowering bushes brought a dull ivory glow from the moonlight, their heady scent thickening the air. Tentatively Sansine stepped out from the narrow hedge lane, as reluctant to step into the open as she was fascinated by the strange place.

Crème white bell shaped blossoms dipped lazily in the slight breeze, the hushed wind mixing with the burbling fountain. Coming to stand at the ledge of the fountain Sansine observed a statue of an enormous mudcrab with one raised claw holding what looked to be a flower of rusted metal. She snorted, incredulous, and then she felt a chill work down her spine. Squinting into the darkness she found herself alone. Yet the chill persisted. Giving in to the oppressive feeling she darted into an opening on the far side of the courtyard and pressed forward with quick steps.

The further into the labyrinth she went the darker and colder the alleys became. It got to a point where she had to move slower than walking with one arm held out before her and another trailing along the trimmed foliage. She began to wonder what she was doing. At some point she was going to have to return to the party and if she were smart she would have realized the only man mad enough to chase her this far would be Brucan. Maybe she should just turn back and hunt down some other male, giving her kiss to them just to keep herself safe from Brucan. And what was she so afraid of kissing him for, anyhow? For all she knew it would be harmless, perhaps she was just making a mountain out of a molehill.

In the midst of berating herself she heard a sigh. Immediately she locked up, her mind and body stilling as every sense tuned into the source of the sound. Then she heard the quiet press of boots into soil, the brush of fabric, and she looked down. Easing a hand down she touched the surface of the dirt and found there were indeed boot prints ahead of hers. They were large, a man's boot. Sansine didn't move until the presence had faded before she grasped one handful of her skirt and with the other kept track of the hedge wall. She set a brisk pace, breathing quietly through parted lips and travelling as fast as she dared.

She skidded around corners, cutting her fingertips against leaves and pruned twigs until she crashed into him. Sansine let out a burst of air, squeaking at the pain in her sinuses from running face first into his arm. Bouncing back her heel snagged on her skirt and she fell to her bottom, tears springing to her eyes. Cupping her face and squinting past the stinging she looked up, hand already raised in defense.

"Romas? What are you doing out here?"

He was barely indistinguishable from the cool night, only a darker silhouette with two pinpricks of light where he looked down at her. He didn't help her to her feet or greet her but Sansine was sure she was the only person ever to be so relieved by running into a Dremora.

Getting to her feet she brushed off her rear, "never mind, I'm just glad you're not – "

"Liobah ordered me to find you," Romas interrupted. Sansine frowned, tilting her head.

"Why?"

"She thought you had been gone too long and worried about the Imperial. Obviously," his tone dripped with contempt. Sansine blew loose strands of hair from her face, rolling her eyes.

"Fine, we'd better get back then before he finds us," she muttered, moving to go only for a vice grip on her arm to pull her back. Opening her mouth to complain proved a mistake as a fiery warm hand clamped over her lips and jaw, moving her until she was locked against Romas's chest. Dimly she found herself wondering how they kept ending up in this position. He moved back, sliding an arm around Sansine's waist and keeping her flush against him with each step. When a burst of crackling energy passed over her skin she nearly moved to bite the firm hand crushing her lips when she heard the footsteps.

Brucan.

He stood barely two strides away, breathing heavily and searching. He carried a dimmed lantern and in its dull orange glow Sansine realized she couldn't see her stray hair. Or her nose. Tilting her chin down she couldn't see Romas's hand or her own body. They were invisible.

So Romas was a mage.

Brucan peered down at the ground and lowered his lamp, frowning at the cacophony of footprints. Sansine saw their were more than one set of tracks and realized, with a tinge of embarrassment, that most belonged to her. She'd been walking in circles. She waited obediently in Romas's arms as Brucan continued further down and disappeared into the maze. A few moments passed before the spell dissipated and Sansine was able to pull out of Romas's hold.

"Thanks. I didn't know you were a mage," she said, keeping her voice down. Romas rolled a shoulder, bringing a small flame to his palm so they could see each other.

"Not all of us are warhammer wielding brutes in Oblivion." Sansine tried not to feel too chastised by the comment. She'd never known much about daedra, much less Oblivion or Aetherius. Although, given Romas's fairly lithe figure she should have guessed he wasn't the type to charge into battle with a greatsword in hand. Folding her arms she hummed, nodding as if this were some clever nugget of information and not another dig at her own ignorance.

"I see."

"Indeed."

"Well," Sansine brought her hands to Romas's small flame, warming them in the flickering light, "should we get back now?"

Following close behind Romas Sansine didn't shy away from her daedric companion. Rather boldly she held onto his jacket sleeve, at once trying to keep close to him and his firelight as well as hurry from the oppressive labyrinth. She probably should have let go when they returned to the party but instead a tipsy Liobah popped up in front of the couple, grinning from one pointy ear to the other.

"So it seems my darling Romas found you first!" she shouted, throwing out her hands and spilling half a goblet of wine onto a passing server. "Did she give you your proper reward, Romas? _Hmm_?"

At this point the closer guests had turned their attention to them. Sansine quickly crossed her arms over her chest, doing her best to study the tips of her boots.

"She has not," Romas answered. Liobah loosed an affronted cry, a hand slapping over her heart.

"How rude. Come one now, give him his prize," Liobah flicked Sansine's forehead. The imperial flinched, beginning to change colors as the crowd of onlookers grew.

"Is this really necessary?" Sansine quietly croaked. Romas didn't seem to care either way; his attention had turned to an idly wafting moth that flitted around a lantern. The only person seeming to care about the kiss was the drunken Dunmer. A force to be reckoned with.

"It is. Now you either give him a kiss like the rest of us who've been playing the game or I'll never commission a gown from you again."

Sansine balked. Liobah's business had kept Sansine's shop open when it otherwise would have had to close its doors. She couldn't afford to go back to charging spatching up torn trousers from the local farmers and expect to stay open. Liobah tipped back her head, downing her drink, "come on girl, don't embarrass me at my party."

"Can I do it later? Everyone's looking," Sansine mumbled, further hunching in on herself. Liobah rolled her eyes, muttering something in Dunmeris before shrugging, "fine. You, don't leave her alone until you've both shared a smooch," she poked a finger in Romas's face before spinning on a heel and disappearing into a group dance. Sansine was left flanked by a Dremora and surrounded by a group of vaguely disgusted men and mer. Biting her cheek she darted through the crowd, muttering apologies as she stepped on other guest's shoes and nearly knocked over a server. Coming to a stop hidden around a corner and further slouching against a statue of a centaur holding a cornucopia Sansine patted her hot cheeks, shaking her head. From one problem to another, as if she couldn't catch a break.

"If you just got it over with you could save yourself the embarrassment," Romas deadpanned, leaning against the statue as well. Sansine grumbled, rubbing her arms against the night's chill.

"I panicked."

"Clearly."

"You know you're awful calm about this. Aren't I some kind of dirt under your boot or something? Nobody wants to kiss dirt."

"It's true, I'd rather peel off every inch of your skin than comply with that bitch's wishes. However while I cannot harm you, watching this distress on your face is one of my only pleasures."

Sansine sighed. Of course now she had to deal with trying to do this task knowing he was thinking about something so vulgar. Was she overemotional? She must be, it did explain why he'd apparently taken a liking to her.

"You're cold," Romas said. Sansine glanced up at him, frowning. His eyes never left the stars overhead, yet Sansine had caught herself trying to rub the gooseflesh from her arms. "Er, yes. It's a touch more frigid than I thought it would be."

Then the daedra did something unexpected. If Sansine were the type to keep a diary she would have retold the event in all capital letters, bothering to underline the entire section. Romas slid off his velvet jacket, shoving it into the girl's arms. He was left in a white undershirt and matching maroon vest, a combination that only further exposed his strong lean physique.

"Uh!" Sansine gulped, "you don't have to – I'll survive." He turned on her like a viper, black lips peeled back over moonstone white fangs as his glowing yes flared into twin burning suns, " _is my kindness not good enough for you, girl?"_

Sansine flinched, nearly dropping the finery in her haste to pull it on. It was so warm, as if it had been left in the sun for a cat to laze about on. The shoulders were too wide for her, the sleeves spilling inches past her fingertips. Most terribly perfect of all was the smell, that familiar scent of Romas's that had Sansine's eyelids growing heavy and her thoughts turning to slow afternoons where the two of them coexisted in companionable silence back at the shop.

"Thank you," Sansine breathed, eyes darting away as her face warmed. She kicked at the ground, knocking a rock away.

"Can we get this over with?" Romas snapped, glaring down his nose at her, "I'm not interested in being out here all night."

"Okay, yes, just, uh," her eyes skirted around everything but him, finally landing on a sculpted bench, "sit there please. You're too tall, I won't be able to reach you otherwise." He didn't point out her poor reasoning, instead doing what he was told without complaint for once. Standing in front of him Sansine enjoyed a brief moment where he had to look up at her.

"Would it be too much to ask you to close your eyes?" she ventured. Romas's face soured, "I am going to savor playing your every tendon like a lute when I undo this binding."

"Gods! Alright!" Sansine yelped. She sucked in a breath through her nose, exhaling through her mouth as her heart already picked up speed. Pinching the ends of the jacket in her hands she barely noticed how sweaty her palms were or how she suddenly felt caught between running and utterly numb from the knee down. She licked her lips, then pressed them together worrying that she'd made them too wet. How was she supposed to kiss him? Did people just pucker up and lean in or did she have to do something else? Sansine had only ever kissed a stray cat that used to come into the shop, but she doubted Romas would appreciate her butting her forehead against his and planting a stiff lipped peck on his cheek.

"Sansi," Romas barked. She floundered then leaned in. She didn't have time to think when their mouths met, in fact her thoughts blanked out entirely when she felt his lips part for her and the wet swipe of his tongue. The sensation shocked her, causing her to draw back. Romas caught her wrist and cupped the back of her skull, holding her in place as he leaned closer.

Sansine's hands curled into claws, one coming to grasp a handful of the daedra's hair. At each stroke of his forked tongue over her lip she would tighten her hold, accidentally eliciting a subtle rumble from him. He slid his lips with hers, his tongue coming to stroke not only her lips but her own tongue in long tastes that left her mouth filled with the flavors of blood and wine. Her eyes watered at the intrusion, the muscles in her abdomen tightening into an exquisite throb as he kneaded the plump of her lower lip between his fangs. The harder she fought his hold the deeper their kiss grew, the more overwhelmed Sansine became. Every nerve was over stimulated, boiling over at his teasing until her shaking knees gave way.

She came to kneel between his parted thighs, gasping for breath as her hands shook. Over her Romas seemed unfazed, pulling her long dark curls over his ebon fingers while keeping one hand possessively holding the nape of her neck. When she finally had the courage to look up to him, an unsure glistening wetness to her eyes and her face a nervous pink, he grinned down with a savagery Sansine had not seen before. The hand on her neck slid around to her clavicle, spreading and crawling upwards until he cupped the swell of her cheek. Almost naturally Sansine leaned into the hold, her brows drawn together in confusion.

"What would you ask of me next? To take you now like the whore you are, or would you rather I let that Imperial you're so fearful of have his way with you?" he grasped the back of her skull again, leaning in close enough to breath over her battered lips, "what about it? I could break you in so many ways," his tongue dragging against her cheek, "ruin you for mortal men until you could never fear them, make you starve after my abuse."

Sansine gasped, shoving back from his arms. She fell to her rear, glaring hotly at Romas as he rest his elbows on his knees, a smug curl to his lips.

"You're a _dog_ ," she spat.

"You're my bitch in heat," he laughed.

Sansine stood, shaking off her skirts and straightening her hair that he'd mussed. She wanted to go, to leave him and his miserably sick heart to rot alone at this horrible garden party, but she couldn't keep her mouth shut. The words bubbled out before she could censor them, her emotion fueled state of mind too fragile to keep her from speaking.

"I've been nothing but kind to you, Dremora. I opened my home to you, kept my reservations to myself, and for the Gods' sakes I saw you as a friend! I'm sorry you have such a horrible disposition but I really do like you, or did," she ground her hands into fists, "I hope you can work out whatever you're going through because it's obviously something fierce if you have to act like I've wronged you. Divines, I don't understand men at all!"

With that out of her system she stomped off, chewing her lip to stave off angry tears and gathering up a handful of skirt so she could take long angry steps. She briefly considered being angry with Liobah but found the drunkards antics not unexpected, but neither could Sansine blame Romas for his behavior. He was a daedra, a Dremora at that. From what little she had gleaned on the race they seemed bred to bring pain upon mortals. Romas wasn't being especially cruel to her; he was simply behaving in a way that came naturally to him. It was in his nature to be terrible. Sansine's anger dampened as memories of the daedra lounging her shop drifted through her mind, of the two of them arguing after he'd eaten all her grapes again or the time he'd fallen asleep in an old overstuffed chair. The way the sunlight had warmed his skin and the soft touch of sleep to his normally strict features had made him seem so, well, was there a word for it?

Mortal?

.

.

.

/AN: and that's all i've got./


End file.
